A Day In The Life
by belencanwrite
Summary: [Number one on the Beatly Hallows series] A day in the life can be anything. Just a day can change it all. (Cover Image is "Mental Scars" by fuileachd)


Has the couch always been that comfortable? Maybe the months outside the tent are now showing in his bones. He realizes he sounds old, but among all the other things he has been thinking the last month, sounding old isn't that bad. He looks into the fire, and listens to the silence. The Burrow was never silent before, but he seems to be the only one noticing that. The rest of his family takes the silence casually, and he feels like he is the only one who still remembers the house's typical noise. He came to the conclusion, yesterday, that he doesn't know how The Burrow has been for the last months. He left; he left last year to fight along with his friends. And he left his friends too, he realizes he doesn't know anything, that…

'Stop thinking' – Harry's voice sounds next to him, and he wonders when did his friend get into the room and sit down.

He makes a kind of sound that would be taken as an answer. He realizes he hasn't been speaking except for monosyllables, either.

'Bad things happen when you think' – The look that he might have put on his face seemed to be enough for Harry to explain – 'I didn't mean it like you don't know how to think, you know? It's just that you make a mess in your head every time you sit down with that face'

He nods, and Harry seems to get more annoyed and frustrated as the time goes on.

'I came to show you this newspaper, tho…'

That thing calls his attention, and he realizes how very few things seem to earn a reaction from him, lately. The Quibbler shows everyone that came back to Hogwarts, smiling and waving at the camera… and although the smiles and expressions seem distant and fake, he can't help feeling jealous of the fact that they could smile... a thing that takes a lot of effort to do for him, lately.

'You could be that way, you know' – Harry's voice sounds again, next to him, pulling him out of his trance.

He thinks Harry has gone mad. Is he serious? Why would he smile like that? He isn't happy. There is no reason to smile at all. His best friends is looking at him worried, concerned… he realizes everyone has been giving him that look since the war ended.

Looking at the person if front of him, though, he realizes he knows that look. It's the look he always gave to that person in the past. His best friend is now looking at him then same way he had looked at his best friend since he met him. He laughs. Because then situation is bizarre, but so accurate and real it hurts. But he laughs, because he feels like it, because laughing at his own self is as ridiculous as he is.

After a couple of minutes of uncontrollable laugh; Harry swears out loud frustrated, 'You've gone fucking insane', and leaves him with only his thoughts.

He realizes that situation is extremely common, too.

 _ **I read the news today, oh boy**_

 _ **About a lucky man who made the grade**_

 _ **And though the news was rather sad**_

 _ **Well I just had to laugh I saw the photograph.**_

'What crossed your mind when doing this?' – An angry voice startles him as he wakes up and the rays of sunshine hurt his eyes. _What the hell._

He tries to move, but his body feels heavy and his mind doesn't coordinate with his limbs. He sees he's dressed all in white and that the room is also white and… _St. Mungo's?_

'Why am I here?' Why does my voice sound so raspy, why did it hurt so much to speak?

'A muggle driver had to meet a drunk person in a broom, does it sound familiar?' _Oh, really? No one knew about your drinking problems, you just had to do that._

The voice in his head doesn't bloody stop and Bill seems to be bottling everything inside him, but putting a calm façade, out of what he can recognize as pity.

'I would love to say I understand you, but sometimes I really don't… all I can say is that I know what you need'

'And when is what you need going to come, huh? Everyone seems to judge me, telling me that they don't know, do you think ... do all of you actually think I know anything about this?' – He doesn't care about the waterfall of tears, or the fact that his throat hurt like hell. This has been in his mind for too long to stay silent.

'Look, Ron... I'm glad you spoke'. – When his brother says this with such a raw emotion, he wonders why he can't remember a time when speaking was easy.

 _ **He blew his mind out in a car**_

 _ **He didn't notice that the lights had changed**_

 _ **A crowd of people stood and stared**_

 _ **They'd seen his face before**_

 _ **Nobody was really sure**_

 _ **If he was from the House of Lords.**_

Hermione is sure she shouldn't be watching a movie with his parents, at home. She is sure she shouldn't be pretending to be enjoying it when thinking about something else... _someone_ _else_.

She is also sure that her parents are doing everything to make her feel at home, at her own house. But home is where your heart is, ain't it? And her heart is at Devon.

The movie is a predictable cliché, something not to think… her parents chose it afraid of emotional triggers if another movie was chosen. They never used to watch these ones. Her father likes them until he gets bored, and her mother thinks they're full of unnecessary violence and an exaggerated sense of nationalism.

They're watching the movie, though. And she's grateful. Because a typical movie is something you need when you don't want to think.

And so uncharacteristically her, now, she doesn't want to think.

But she can't stop. That fiery red hair and those blue eyes that used to shine happily every time… those sad eyes are the reminder of a person that she can't stop thinking about.

 _ **I saw a film today, oh boy**_

 _ **The English army had just won the war**_

 _ **A crowd of people turned away**_

 _ **But I just had to look**_

 _ **Having read the book**_

 _ **I'd love to turn you on.**_

Sleeping used to be a routine for Hermione. She never was someone to enjoy sleep passionately, but always took sleeping as something necessary.

On the run, sleeping was weakness, and just a thing to do when you were extremely tired. There was always a book to read, a plan to make, an answer to find. Sleeping was the last thing to do.

The days after the war and before going back to Hogwarts, sleeping was something she could do only in Ron's arms. All the times she tried to sleep alone, she woke up screaming because of a nightmare.

Back at Hogwarts, nevertheless, she had to get used to sleeping without Ron. With the help of therapy-like talks with Madam Pomfrey, and the distractions of the day with her friends... sleeping was something she could do, but out of necessity. There wasn't a might she didn't miss Ron.

At home, the tranquillity of her house makes her anxious. She can sleep, she can take all the time she wants in the bathroom, privacy is normal… and instead of giving her a sense of comfort, and it makes her miss The Burrow even more.

Drinking the morning tea, she looks at the window when hearing a sudden noise of something hitting the glass. That something is Pig, and a letter.

Letters from Ron have been short recently. The first months at Hogwarts, the letters were long and romantically sad, showing how much they missed each other. As months went by, then letters considerably shortened, but never in a distant way. There was something off about them. Beginning to worry, she explained it to Harry, who said Ron was feeling a little down, but nothing else. She knows better, though. She knows there's a silent pact between the two of them to avoid making her worry. They're her best friends, and she knows it because that's the way it always worked.

Feeling hopeful, she grabs the letter, but feels her world falling when recognizing Harry's writing.

Leaving a short note to her parents not even knowing how she wrote it, she apparates to St. Mungo's, heart drumming in her chest and red clouding her eyes.

 _ **Woke up, fell out of bed,**_

 _ **Dragged a comb across my head**_

 _ **Found my way downstairs and drank a cup,**_

 _ **And looking up I noticed I was late.**_

Ron always loved sleeping. He used to think sleeping "cures all wounds". When did he stopped enjoying it, he doesn't know. Nightmares were usual. Unreal and potentially dangerous things were manageable. But the memories were what hurt the most.

He can say he stopped sleeping the way he had all his life when they were on the run. He can say that the fact of a possible attack had him alert all the time and so he couldn't sleep. But the thoughts were the main reason not to sleep, if he has to be honest.

Thoughts leave deeper scarring, said Madam Pomfrey years ago, after the brain burned his arms at the Department of Mysteries.

At fifteen, he took the quote as a thing an adult would say to make him feel better but that ended up sounding strange.

Now, everything makes sense. He can't do anything, even little, without having weird thoughts in his head.

Hermione was the mental one that thought all the time, not him.

He can't close his eyes, because memories come as a storm. He can't force himself to sleep because he actually doesn't want to sleep.

Feeling the need to drink and realizing then fact that he's still at hospital, he gets up. The mediwitch took all the potions out of the room. They must know about you drinking potions for every single you need to do. What a pathetic failure.

The voice is in his head and doesn't go away. _Never_.

He finds his pair of black trousers, and looking for his wand, he finds a pack of ciggies.

 _Oh, sweet relief._

When did relaxing become smoking?

Knowing Harry would be there soon, he leaves the room and apparates at the roof.

He lights and inhales the cigarette thinking about this younger and older self.

The first one, who loved sleeping and found calm on doing it, to the point he would never wake up.

The second one, who can't sleep and finds calm smoking, to the point he doesn't remember when was the last time he slept.

He looks at the borderline of the roof and feels like, if he were asked to jump, he wouldn't mind.

What would his family say? Another Weasley son dead? _At least this time the death would come to the one they never wanted._

He remembers Hermione, who spent months telling him that everyone loved him... that he just had to believe it. She told him to wait for her to come home, to let her help him.

But he thinks no help is enough, and that she should live a life without him being a burden. She's better off.

Immersed on his thoughts, he didn't seem to register someone on the roof with him.

Violently turning around, he feels dizzy and his legs seem to fail the coordination of his brain.

He can see Harry. And he can hear a voice that is not Harry's.

'Mr. Weasley, you need to sleep'

Yes, he needs. But he doesn't want to.

 _Then why does his brain shuts off?_

Found my coat and grabbed my hat

 _ **Made the bus in seconds flat**_

 _ **Found my way upstairs and had a smoke,**_

 _ **Somebody spoke and I went into a dream.**_

Knowing he hasn't been sleeping well for months makes her choke a sob.

Knowing he hasn't been talking since she left makes her want to scream.

Knowing he has been smoking to relieve tension makes her frustrated.

Knowing he has been drinking potions to keep up with the routine makes her want to destroy a room.

Knowing he has been drinking alcohol not to dream makes her cry.

Knowing he has been hallucinating for lack of sleep makes her scream and cry and destroy.

Knowing he has been alone at Grimmauld Place 12, convincing his family he was okay, angers her enough to go and hurt him.

Knowing he has been alone at Grimmauld Place 12, after fighting so much with Harry and George that they left him with his madness... that makes her want to hit him.

Knowing he has been alone, though, makes her want to cuddle him.

Knowing he has been breaking all contact with people, even if Harry and George waited patiently for him to come to his senses until they fed up and thought leaving him alone for a little time was better... that makes her angry again.

Knowing they found out the 'being alone' thing didn't work by him crushing with his broom in front of a car in the middle of London, that makes her want to kill him.

Realizing he almost kills himself and that an hour ago Harry and mediwizards found him at the roof, makes her cry uncontrollably.

The hallucinations don't stop. He needs sleep.

He needs her as much as she needs him.

Right now, though, waiting for him to wake up and show a part of his old self again, is the only thing she needs.

 _ **I read the news today oh boy**_

 _ **Four thousand holes in Blackburn,**_

 _ **Lancashire**_

 _ **And though the holes were rather small**_

 _ **They had to count them all**_

 _ **Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.**_

 _ **I'd love to turn you on.**_


End file.
